Flowers wilt eventually. Yet some transform that very moment of withering into an “art of remembrance.”
The artist Nanan draws what she calls “flowers that never wither,” exploring how gifts, memory, and emotion can linger far beyond their physical form. Her signature series, Long Long Time Flower, unfolds from the concept of “gifting memory,” showing how personal emotions and recollections can expand into shared experiences. Her flowers are not mere painted forms but emotional devices that mediate relationships between people.
Before her works, some weep, others smile. In the oscillation of these emotional intensities, Nanan proves that art is not merely a “viewed object” but a co-created experience.
The Birth of Flowers That Don’t Wilt
Everything began from a single “flower bouquet made in drawing.”
“I used to make wildflower bouquets for friends’ weddings, but I felt sadness at how quickly they would fade. So I cut out drawings of flowers and bundled them into bouquets as gifts. One friend said, ‘This won’t fade for a long, long time,’ and that phrase unlocked my artwork’s name and worldview.
That spontaneous remark reshaped her artistic path. Instead of capturing floral life, she began to address the persistence of memory. She moved beyond canvas, placing her cut-out flowers on moon jars, antique furniture, glass vessels—extending a choreography of gift–memory–empathy.
“To me, the act of giving is itself an art. Some viewers have cried before my work. Seeing that, I realized this series has a therapeutic quality.”
The Technique of Painting Flowers
Her practice is built around a cut-out technique: she paints on paper (often using acrylic and gouache) and then cuts the forms, which are then placed in vases or framed on walls, arranged like real bouquets.
Frequently, she also issues digital C-print editions, preserving painterly texture while traversing the boundary between matter and immaterial, reality and digital space. Her forms expand—cut-outs, framing, three-dimensional objects—but she resists being locked into any single mode. The central axis she never relinquishes is the idea of a heart that lingers.
Flowers Beyond Frames — Layers of Korean Time
Flowers carry emotions—celebration, gratitude, consolation. But Nanan refuses to confine them as static still lifes. Her choice: flowers beyond frames, and the everyday Korean objects they rest upon.
“I began with the question, ‘If something is to last, must it be trapped in a frame?’ From there I chose to let flowers escape, meeting Korean objects like moon jars, norigae, and motifs from minhwa to add layers of temporal meaning.”
Her endeavor is more than aesthetic pairing; it’s a meditation on time itself. Her flowers bloom at the intersection of tradition and contemporary feeling. The flatness of minhwa, the minimal lines of modern design, the tactile grain of paper—they converge to form a new sensibility.
One of her public collaborations, the Chochungdo Edition (in partnership with the National Museum Foundation), reinterprets plants and insects from traditional paintings as “flowers that never fade.”
“I wanted to share my intention—to hold gratitude and celebration for a long time—with a public brand.”
In her recent TeaTime series, she combines hanji, painting, and object to evoke “slow moments when one contemplates flowers over tea.” For her, “slowness” isn’t about tempo but about recovering depth of feeling.
When Art Enters Everyday Life
Nanan began with window painting.
“A window reflects light, seasons, distance. My paintings are completed at the boundary where interior and exterior meet.”
In her major project “The Tree Was Not Cut; The Tree Was Made”, everyone who passed the transparent glass could complete a tree themselves with pen and stickers—an interactive intervention. The work emphasized that art need not be confined to white boxes; it can parasitically exist in everyday thresholds.
Later, she collaborated with Tous Les Jours to create “flowers that never wither on desserts,” and painted a 12-meter window mural at Seoul National University Children’s Hospital as a donation. During the pandemic, she contributed a series of flower works inspired by sign language to the “Thank You, From the People” campaign, and mounted a Three Bluebonnets garden to revive memories of abductees. Through these, she experiments with how art can truly touch our lives.
Art That Blooms Together
Participation is always assumed in Nanan’s exhibitions. In one corner, the Long Long Time Flower Shop invites visitors to choose flower cut-outs and form their own bouquet.
“The moment a viewer touches the pieces, the result becomes a joint work between artist and audience. That participation is intrinsic to my work.”
The most memorable moment in any exhibition is the “viewer’s hand.” Some place a cut-out, some stop and linger.
“I am most deeply moved by when someone says, ‘I felt consoled.’ That they could find solace in my work—that is the gift of my work. I too receive comfort and encouragement from viewer responses.”
Though Nanan moves across media, one anchor remains steadfast: the heart that lingers.
“A flower cannot bloom by itself. It only truly lives when the viewer’s hand helps complete it.”
To her, art is a structure of sharing, a circulatory ecology of emotion. Every flower she draws and cuts carries within a “time of memory.” It is not merely a fade-resistant image but a small gift that links people. And that gift continues to bloom, day after day.
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